“At Mr. Foster’s,” said Dick promptly. “Mr. Foster came in while Kitty and I were sitting with Faith, and he said ‘it was late, and he was hungry, and we had better get tea ready.’ And ‘so full of fun and pleasure we all four went to work. Mr. Foster and I set the table, and Faith and Kitty cut the bread and butter, and all of us together brought on cold meat and Christ-Church patties, and it was all done in such a joyous mood, that you would have thought we were children playing at having a picnic. Oh! it was such a happy hour! Was it not, Kitty?”
“Indeed it was. I shall never forget it.”
But who can prolong a joy when it is over? Both Kitty and Dick tried to do so, but the squire soon turned thoughtful, and Mistress Annis, though she said only nice words, put no sympathy into them; and they were only words, and so fell to the ground lifeless. The squire was far too genial a soul, not to feel this condition, and he said suddenly—“Dick, come with me. I hev a letter to write to thy aunt, and thou can do it for me. I’ll be glad of thy help.”
“I will come gladly, father. I wish you would let me do all the writing about business there is to be done. Just take me for your secretary.”
“That is a clever idea. We will talk it out a bit later. Come thy ways with me, now. No doubt thy mother and sister hev their awn things to talk over. Women hev often queer views of what seems to men folk varry reasonable outcomes.”
So the two men went out very confidingly together, and Kitty remained with her mother, who sat silently looking into the darkening garden.
Neither spoke for a few minutes, then Kitty lifted her cape and bonnet and said, “I am tired, mother. I think I will go to my room.”
“Varry well, but answer me a few questions first. What do you now think of Dick’s fancy for Faith?”
“It is not a fancy, mother. It is a love that will never fade or grow old. He will marry Faith or he will never marry.”
“Such sentimentality! It is absurd!”